Fudge
by CourftheCat
Summary: In which Courfeyrac has a cold and Joly worries for the wellbeing of Paris. Modern AU.


"Hacheweugh!" Courfeyrac sneezed. Again. He had insisted Joly come to the market in town, but had forgot to check the weather forecast. It had chucked it down.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Courf, let's get inside before you end up with pneumonia," Joly begged, remembering previous episodes of taking Bossuet to the hospital every time he got a winter cough.

"But the fudge…" Courf protested.

"IS THE FUDGE WORTH YOUR LIFE?!" Courfeyrac rolled his eyes.

"It's good fudge," he replied, pulling his friend over to the sweet stall. As he sneezed over the fudge, Joly made his apologies to the stall owner and dragged Courf away.

"You were contaminating the fudge," he said bluntly, "And that could lead to an outbreak of pneumonia, and then the whole of Paris will be in peril!" and with that, Joly shoved Courf into the shopping centre and promptly bought a thermal blanket to drape over his shoulders. "Can't have you catching a fever." He bundled his friend into the lift and pressed the up button. It obeyed, but then made a protesting noise and stopped. "It's broken," Joly grumbled. "Typical when you've got a cold."

A few minutes went by before Courf spoke again.

"Joly," he said quietly, "I don't want you to worry, but…" he paused. "Scratch that, you're going to worry anyway – I'm claustrophobic."

"Oh, great," Joly muttered under his breath.

"Sor – hacheugh!" he sneezed. Quick as lightning, Joly whipped out a pack of antibacterial wipes and began cleaning the handrail where the remnants of Courf's sneeze were sat.

"Do you _want_ there to be a pneumonia epidemic?!" he snapped. Courf shrugged and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "NOO!" Joly yelled, quickly removing Courfeyrac's jacket and stuffing it into a bag. Courf pulled a face.

"I thought you wanted me to be warm?"

"Well, technically, the cold clothes will make you worse and I should get you to remove them," he said, half-smiling at his friend's horrified look, "But since we're in a public place it's probably not a good idea." Courfeyrac sighed in relief. Joly thought a moment. "I should probably phone Chetta and ask her to get some clothes ready." He got his phone out and rang her, ignoring Courf's groans as he told her about his 'fever' and 'symptoms of pneumonic plague'.

Courf decided it better to just call the maintenance people to get them out of this stupid lift.

"Oh," Joly said when he realised what Courf was doing, "Why didn't I think of that?"

"You're too worried about my pneumonic plague," Courf sniggered.

"Chetta, I'll see you later," Joly said before hanging up and turning to Courf. "Courfeyrac, this is _not_ a laughing matter. Pneumonic plague is not only fatal, it's _contagious_. You could kill us all!" a knocking came from the other side of the door.

"The doors are jammed," the maintenance man called. "I'm going to have to wrench it open." And with that, a loud screeching noise was heard and the doors reluctantly opened to reveal Feuilly.

"Feuilly, you're a life saver!" Courf hugged his friend. Joly pulled him away.

"I wouldn't touch him," he said as Feuilly gave them a strange look, "He's got the plague." Feuilly nodded, knowing that it was the best to just go with it.

"How, Musichetta?" Courf groaned as he stumbled through Joly's front door. Chetta appeared from the kitchen.

"How what?"

"How do you put up with him?!" Chetta laughed.

"Patience is a virtue, Courfeyrac." Courf sighed and sneezed again. "And though you probably _don't_ have pneumonic plague," she held up a hand to stop Joly from protesting about Courf _definitely_ had pneumonic plague, "You have a cold, and you need to sleep."

Courf was in bed a couple of days before he decided to emerge. He stumbled down the stairs to find Joly, Chetta and Combeferre discussing his condition.

"Courf!" Ferre grinned at his friend. "Are you feeling any better?"

"By dose is a bit bunged-up," his replied, sniffing and wiping his nose on his sleeve, much to Joly's frustration, "But I'll be okay soon edough."

"You sound terrible," Chetta commented, "Maybe you should go back to bed for a while." Joly got up.

"Before you go," he said, handing Courf a small paper bag, "I wanted to give you this. It seems stupid to go through all that and get nothing out of it, especially when it's that." Courf cautiously opened the bag. "It's good fudge."


End file.
